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Cleaning The Slate
Cleaning The Slate is a short story written by BionicleChicken for FireDrag1091's writing contest. Story Estross stared at the large wall. His eyes wandered from weapon to weapon as he followed its evolution over the years. At the far left, he saw that the rifle he had been eyeing began as a crude crossbow of sorts. Several thousands of years ago, this precursor to the weapon was invented before the arrival of the Toa of Plasma Likor, a gift granted to the Lykos people by the Seven Gods so that their tools could be improved to perfection. The description was not figurative either, as all other nations in the Matoran Universe couldn’t hope to match the power of the Plasma-fueled weaponry of the Republic. Sure, industries like those in Xia create similar equipment, but they were practically bootlegs, poor imitations that the Xians claim were legitimate Lykos technology. Usually, these weapons backfired, discharged at inopportune times, or simply didn’t have the same Plasma endurance as the actual items. The young Lykos snapped back to reality when he heard footsteps approach the room from the corridor outside. He quickly grabbed his mechanical sweeper and tried his best to continue his cleaning of the armory. The footsteps came closer until they were revealed to belong to the elderly Curationer Gurnary, the head of the museum Estross was working as a cleaner in. The Curationer shook his head in shame as he looked at the sickly thin Lykos attempting to freshen up the room’s floor. Estross had a physique that was relentlessly looked down upon by his culture. It didn’t help that his family had a shady reputation among the Republic. Worst was that he was only half part of the clan he belonged to. Somehow, he was the illegitimate offspring of a member of the Paketo. His kind were rare, even more so that he would be spared in the age of his Holy Ultra Director, Polemistis. Everything being pure as possible was now a very desired result, especially in the rule of Polemistis. Those like Estross would be expected to be tossed into a gutter and die of starvation or other means. But his Paketo managed to dig up ounces of pity and kept him around, despite him being the result of a Paketo member’s irresponsibility. “Do you realize how long you have been cleaning this room, Virstil?” asked Gurnary. The word was the term used to describe those with similar origins of Estross. “What have you been up to? Admiring the exhibit?” “I apologize, Curationer,” muttered Estross as he avoided his superior’s stare. “Of course you do,” answered Gurnary. “In fact, this room is not at all dirty. It is completely free of a speck of filth. You came in here to see the weapons, didn’t you?” “Aj,” said Estross, still not making eye contact. “I would remind you that you are only here because of your Paketo’s request for a tolerable occupation,” reminded Gurnary. “But you’ve heard enough of it, haven’t you, Virstil?” Estross didn’t answer this time. He had indeed heard this fact many times before. Those who employed him constantly reminded him of his fortune. In Grogos Sarkus’s lands, this job would be considered below standards and pitiful. They don’t realize what a virstil’s life is like in Exusia. “I suggest you finish whatever you were doing in here, lad,” said Gurnary. “Dawn is coming in a few moments and the museum will be open for business. You would no longer be needed until night falls once more.” “Aj, Curationer,” said Estross, going to sweep a corner. Gurnary turned to leave when he stopped. His head twitched as he placed a hand on his ear. After a moment, the Curationer tapped his helmet, which projected a holographic map of the museum appeared. Estross halted his sweeping, assuming he is finished so he could have an excuse to see what Gurnary was doing. From what he could see, there were dots coming from the southeast entrance. This was strange, as the museum was closed and only two kinds of people would enter. Heretic thieves or the Exusia Guard. Gurnary’s reaction indicated that it was the Guard. Calmly, he told Estross, “Stay here, Virstil. I will see what our visitors want.” Estross nodded in obedience as Gurnary left his field of vision. Estross stood silently as he waited for Gurnary to return and give him orders on what to do now that the Guard was here. Knowing the Curationer, he’d probably tell Estross to hide so as to avoid showing the Guard that he had a virstil under his wing. The sweeper waited longer. From a distance, he could hear a conversation echo through the empty museum. Suddenly, the virstil heard the sound of a Plasma pistol going off. Confused, he straightened up and slowly made his way to the doorway so he could peek into the corridor. He heard a collection of footsteps heading towards him. They arrived sooner than he expected: before he manged to look into the corridor. Startled, Estross fell back, and found himself in the sights of a muscular Lykos holding what was clearly a sniper rifle. Before anything more could be said or done, a Plasma Blade burst through the intruder’s chest. The screaming body of the Lykos was tossed aside, an action which was immediately followed by a loud and flashing fight. Estross crawled backwards to the wall opposite the doorway and clutched his ears, trying to drown out the violence literally a few feet away. The struggle stopped with a pained groan and a metallic thud. Into the room stepped another Lykos. This one was clad in chrome armor, his helmet seemingly doubling as a mask. He stared at Estross for a moment before raising his arm. He tapped on the gauntlet that was grafted on the forearm. What followed the tapping was a holographic image of Estross, accompanied by scrolling text that most likely gave information on him. The Lykos swiped through the text with a finger all the while occasionally glancing at the virstil, as if to confirm. He waved away the hologram and looked outside. He nodded to someone outside. He ducked back inside and approached Estross. The virstil’s breathing became more erratic as he was found his distance from the newly arrived Lykos to be smaller and smaller. The chrome Lykos halted and extended a hand. “Come,” he ordered with a deep stern voice. “You are in more danger here than with us, virstil.” Estross stared at the hand, then at the Lykos offering it. With a heavy inhalation, he took the hand and was helped up to his feet. “Who are you?” asked Estross. “We are the Lykos Kinsmen Opposition,” answered the Lykos. “Those lying dead behind me were trying to kill you.” “What for?” asked Estross. “Because I am not of honorable birth?” “No, because you were part of former Voskya Director Zilotis’ Paketo, no matter how thin your familial connection may be,” said the Lykos. “The Purge of the Second Paketo is underway and we are here to make sure you reach safety.” “I don’t understand, why are you helping me?” “Because this is not honorable, Estross,” answered the Lykos. “The Republic was built on honor, not brutal cheats. One’s mistakes should not be extended to the rest of the Paketo.” Estross felt enlightened when he heard the last sentence. For what seems to be the first time, this was a conversation that wasn’t in any way pitying or degrading him. This Lykos was treating him like what most Lykos treat each other. “Of course,” nodded Estross. “Where will you be taking me?” “For now, we will escort you to the southeast ports, which is nearby. That’s how we managed to sneak into Exusia despite our...notoriety,” explained the Lykos. “Alright,” nodded Estross. The Lykos went to the doorway and gestured to his associate. A second later, he came back with a scarlet chestplate. Estross had seen this kind of armor before. It was the kind that upon wear, would expand and cover the wearer in its protective hide. Putting it on, it did exactly that. “Now you are in disguise,” explained the Lykos. “Come now, let’s move before more guards come.” Stepping out into the corridor, Estross saw that his rescuer was accompanied by four more Kinsmen. They were as equally equipped as the chrome one, each having a matching gauntlet that must work the same way. Estross also saw the dead Exusia Guard lying at the Opposition’s feet. “Why are they wearing hoods?” asked Estross, noticing the Guard’s strange attires. “Most likely to prevent connection to the Ultra Director in some way,” answered the Chrome Lykos. “Do you see how devious our ‘holiest Director’ is? Sending hidden scum to kill an entire clan.” Estross felt a rising heat in his heart. A heat that he knew was anger and hate for Exusia’s leader. The more he stepped forward, the more there seemed to be evidence of Polemistis’ dishonor. The five Lykos then ran to the southeast entrance, where Estross saw Gurnary’s dead body. He knew the old Kinsmen didn’t like him that much, but Estross was still upset by the sight. He knew because he wasn’t this bothered by the collection of corpses in the corridor. Outside in the streets of Exusia was dark. In the distance, Estross could see the Ultra Director’s home, towering over all the buildings in the homeland’s skyline. After the ordeal he just went through, Estross's mind began projecting scenarios where he would lead a final charge against Polemistis, ending with an explosive conclusion. Estross's fantasies of grandeur were interrupted by the Chrome Lykos Opposer's hushed comment of, "We're nearly there, take a right here." As the group swung around the corner as directed by who Estross now assumed was the leader of the squadron, the virstil asked the latter, "What will become of me when I am out of the Republic?" The lead Opposer sighed, "We do not know yet, Estross. Tonight was too close of a call for immediate planning. We have arrived at the port." The group stopped their movements as they reached the edge of a pier. Before them was a large wall with little to no opening to be seen. Of course, this was because of the fact that most boats that came arrived by submerging under the wall. So it wasn't hard for Estross to deduce how they were to be transported out. "We are waiting for a boat?" asked the virstil. "A small submarine, aj," replied the Chrome one, who stepped away from the pier so as to check to see if there were any undesired witnesses in attendence. Estross kept his gaze at the murky waters before him. He felt a smile stretch across his mandibles. "I am not going to lie, I am excited for what comes next for me," the virstil said. "Never in my moments alone have I ever imagined that the Opposition would be the best place for me." "We never said anything about that," said one of the other Lykos accompanying him. "I know," said Estross. "But if it is at all possible, I would like to join the Opposition." "Oh?" "I have seen what lows Polemistis is willing to sink to, and I for one would be proud to be one of those who witnesses his end. The end to his reign and his life." "You are ambitious for a virstil that was sweeping museum floors moments ago," pointed out the lead Opposer. "It is only appropriate. You are the only ones who do not look down on me. Even my Paketo looked down on me. Now, I finally have a place to fit in with. It is also only appropriate you have one of his victims in your ranks, no? My Paketo will not survive this purge, I know it. But I would be utterly at peace if Polemistis found himself dying at the hands of not only a survivor of such a sweep, but a virstil as well," said Estross proudly. "You would make a very excellent Opposer, Estross," said the chrome Opposer behind him. "Shame you were easily swayed by blatant lies, however." "Wha--?" Estross didn't finish his sentence. A streak of green Plasma shot through the side of his head from behind him, a mandible detaching from his mouth. Having stood on the edge of the pier, waiting for the transport that would never come, Estross fell into the waters below with a wide splash. His burnt head wound caused some steam to rise as soon as contact with the water occurred. The virstil's carcass sank into the fairly deep water, his descent aided by the heavy Lykos armor gifted to him by the deceitful chrome-clad Lykos. Soon, any sign of him disappeared, with the exception of his detached mandible, which was still on dry ground. With minor contempt, the chrome Lykos picked up the mandible and tossed it into the water after its owner. "The body will be dragged out of the homeland by the morning current," announced he. "That is another one of Zilotis's traitorous kin eliminated. Have you recorded the events with your helmet?" He asked one of those in his command. The recorder nodded before tapping the side of his helmet. A subtle red dot on it disappeared as soon as he did. "Good," nodded the chrome-clad Lykos. "We now have evidence of morale weakness in the Republic. We will have to intensely improve our efforts to garner support from those here if such things as this is to be done easily. Opposition recruitment's priority must be acknowledged from now on. Next item on the agenda is to report to Intelligence on those Opposition intruders at the museum. How they got into the homeland without detection despite those who betrayed our Ultra Director's faces being memorized by our security must be addressed and investigated. I doubt their hoods were what allowed them to sneak in. You are all dismissed. May the Republic endure, my brothers." His subordinates placed their fists above their hearts as the chrome-clad Intelligence officer placed his below his own heart. And with heavy footsteps, they were gone into the night. Characters *Estross - dies *Curationer Gurnary *Lykos Kinsmen Opposers - dies *Lykos Intelligence Officers **Chrome-Clad Lykos Intelligence Officer *Polemistis (V Osade Universe) - mentioned *Zilotis (V Osade Universe) - mentioned Trivia *The idea of an illegitimate child in a Lykos Paketo was inspired by the character Jon Snow from the television series Game of Thrones. *The revelation at the end of the story was inspired by the final scene from part two of the dystopian novel 1984 by George Orwell. Category:User:FireDrag1091 Category:Stories Category:Short Stories